


Running Out of Miracles

by stonecoldhedwig



Series: Miracles [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Good Peter Pettigrew, Harry Potter is Not the Boy-Who-Lived, James Potter Lives, James Potter is the Boy Who Lived, Lily Evans Potter Lives, Maybe Present Wolfstar, Multi, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Triwizard Tournament, Who tf knows, jily, past wolfstar - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:26:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28265376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonecoldhedwig/pseuds/stonecoldhedwig
Summary: James Potter is the-Boy-Who-Lived. He thinks he had a lucky escape at the Battle of Godric's Hollow in 1981; Peter Pettigrew, in his final moments, sought to make amends for his betrayal of the Potters by stepping between James and Lord Voldemort.Now, James and Lily's four sons are all at Hogwarts, and the school is hosting the Triwizard Tournament. Something, however, is afoot...
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin (past)
Series: Miracles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802782
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Running Out of Miracles

**Author's Note:**

> It'll help if you read the prequel to this, A Bitter Little Eucharist! 
> 
> The title comes from a line in the song "My Sad Captains" by Elbow.

**September 1st, 1994**

All things considered, it was not the best September 1st James Potter had ever had. 

His first year going to Hogwarts—that probably ranked pretty highly, pushing through the barrier at Kings Cross to see the crimson Hogwarts Express, glistening like a talisman amongst plumes of white smoke. Or maybe fourth year, when he got to walk through the barrier wearing that Quidditch captain’s badge, the first time he’d been ready in his school robes before even boarding the train. The best, though, was definitely the year he walked through the barrier with his Head Boy badge in his pocket, next to the little bundle of letters that he and Lily had been exchanging ever since they received their badges. He’d blushed red as his crimson tie when she’d smiled—entirely genuinely—at him on the platform and offered him a little wave. 

Simpler times, James thought, as he manoeuvred a trolley carrying two trunks, a broomstick case and his youngest son’s owl around a group of Muggles. He’d not slept the night before, tossing and turning as he fretted about the next day and how he’d feel standing on the platform next to Lily, waving off all of their children to Hogwarts for the year. Somehow, it felt more heartbreaking this year. Harry and Johnny going away had been hard enough, but they still had the twins at home; now Magnus and Gideon were going to be boarding the train too, and James thought his heart might just break. 

“John Sirius!” James called, his voice going a little hoarse. “Just because you’re a second year now doesn’t mean that you get to bloody well run off without us.” 

Ahead of them, a mess of chestnut hair bobbed amongst the crowds. Johnny turned round, a mulish look on his face. He sighed, and pushed his heavy-laden trolley back to his parents. 

“Oh alright,” he grumbled, giving his parents the sort of over-dramatic sigh that only twelve-year-olds can. “But I don’t see why Harry and I have to wait, we know what we’re doing.” 

“Please,” Harry said with a scoff, reaching out and scrubbing his younger brother’s hair, “you made me hold your hand every time we went through the barrier last year.” 

Johnny went the colour of beetroot, and kicked out at Harry’s ankle. “Piss off,” he grunted. 

“Language!” scolded James. 

“Harry, sweetheart, did you shrink your jeans?” asked Lily suddenly, frowning down at their eldest son’s ankles, where a healthy dose of his bright orange Chudley Cannons socks were on show.

“Why would I shrink my own jeans? I think I grew, that’s all.” 

“Again?! You know, when we had all of you, I prayed you wouldn’t get your father’s genes.” 

“If I was wearing Dad’s jeans, they might fit me.” 

James let out a guffaw that was hastily silenced by the look on Lily’s face. When her back was turned from him, he grinned down at Harry and gave him a wink. “That was a good one.” 

“Thanks, I try,” Harry replied. 

“I’ll forgive you for wearing those socks for that—“ James nodded down at the flash of orange— “because last time I checked, we’re a Kestrels household.” 

Harry laughed. “Ron got them for me for my birthday. A pair for every team in the league. Well, almost all of them; he didn’t send me a Tornados pair, for obvious reasons.” 

James chuckled. He was so pleased to read in Harry’s first letter home from Hogwarts that he’d become fast friends with Ron Weasley. James and Lily hadn’t been contemporaries of Molly and Arthur at Hogwarts, but the Prewett boys had been on James’ Quidditch team and close friends of Lily’s, and James could see in their nephew the same fierce good-naturedness that he had so valued in the twins. 

“I’m not waiting any longer,” Johnny said resolutely, drawing James’ attention away from his oldest son. He looked affectionately at Johnny’s freckled, scowling face. He looks so much like his mother, James mused. Harry, he was all James—slender, just beginning to see the turning of his boyish sharp angles into the smooth planes of manhood, and growing taller by the day. Johnny, though, was stocky, with broad shoulders that would one day make him a good Beater, chestnut hair that bordered on auburn in the summer months, and an air to him that was so very _Evans_. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d inherited from Lily, too, a need to prove himself.

“Go on then.” James nodded at the barrier. “There’s a gap, go ahead. Just wait for us the other side so we can help you get your things on the train and say goodbye, alright?” 

“Alright.” 

The party watched as Johnny determinedly turned his trolley and—with his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration—hurried towards the barrier. 

“Magnus, take your owl, sweetheart,” Lily directed at their smallest son, who reached out and took the cage where sat his dainty owl of Minerva, who he had inexplicably called Wilton. Lily reached over to take the twins’ trolley from James, her hand brushing his as she did so, and a spark of electricity seemed to jump between them. Her green eyes met his and she smiled, her face radiating a joy that whispered something secret and sacred between the two of them. “You’ll bring up the rear with Harry, yeah?” 

“Aye, aye, captain,” James said, mock-saluting. 

Lily laughed, and turned to the twins. “Right, boys, let’s go now while there’s a gap…”

James and Harry stood back a little way, watching as Lily, Magnus and Gideon made their way to the barrier. James couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his youngest children hurrying towards it, flanking Lily on either side. They had a remarkable symbiosis, the twins—Gideon was a natural leader, so like his namesake, while Magus was a gentler, all together more curious soul. They looked like Lily, as much as Harry looked like James—their hair was a dark auburn, their still-childish faces smattered with freckles. They had James’ eyes, though. 

“Remember your second year when that house elf went nuts and blocked you from getting through the barrier?” James hummed, reminiscing. “You flew the Weasleys’ car to school and I had to pretend to Mum that I definitely didn’t think it was hilarious.” 

“Yeah, and then Ron’s sister got taken into the Chamber of Secrets, so all things considered, the car thing didn’t seem so bad.” 

James chuckled. He’d always hoped his and Lily’s children would have her sense of humour, that sarcastic, precise timing that made him break into easy, earnest grins. “True. Then again, it did teach your mother and I not to attend a wedding on the weekend you’re due back at school. And at least you didn’t repeat it last year.” 

“Oh, last year was serene,” deadpanned Harry, “aside from the fact that all those Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban and we had to cancel the Quidditch season because of the Dementors. That, and we had to rescue Johnny from Bellatrix Lestrange in the Shrieking Shack. Walk in the park after second year, eh?” 

“Don’t joke about that, Harry,” James replied sharply. Their sons seemed to have inherited his habit of getting into trouble, but the previous year had been different. A mass breakout from Azkaban of a list of people that put the hairs up on the back of James’ neck; names that had haunted his dreams ever since the war. _Bellatrix Lestrange. Augustus Rookwood. Rabastan Lestrange. Rodolphus Lestrange_. They’d gone to Hogwarts, gone looking for the things that would get to James, would draw him to them so that they might have a shot at vanquishing The-Boy-Who-Lived. Those things took the form of his children, his boys. 

“Sorry,” Harry said, looking down at his shoes. 

“Be good this year, Harry. After everything at the Quidditch World Cup… I don’t want you doing anything reckless, do you understand me? Just… have a quiet year.”

“Yes, Dad.” 

James flicked the brake on the wheel of Harry’s trolley, and leant forward so his elbows where resting on the handle. The pair stood in silence for a minute or so, watching as Muggles hurried around them, oblivious to the world that existed so within reach, just out of sight. 

James glanced down at his eldest boy. “You excited about this year?” 

“Yeah,” Harry smiled back at his father, “I am. It’ll be nice now that there’s more of us at Hogwarts.” 

“Oh?”

“You know what I mean,” shrugged Harry, watching a small family walk casually towards the barrier. “It was a lot, the first year, when everyone wanted to get a look at the son of The-Boy-Who-Lived.” 

James sighed, his heart constricting a little as he scanned Harry’s face. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I wish I could make it easier on you all.” 

Harry made a face and shook his head. “It’s fine, honestly. Johnny turned up last year and took some of the pressure off, you know? Hard to be the centre of attention when Bellatrix Lestrange has kidnapped your brother.” 

“Harry,” James said warningly, making a face at his son that almost matched the one Harry had just pulled. Their sons had a remarkable talent for getting into mischief, but James had thought the previous year might very well be the one that did him in. 

And then there had been Sirius. Sirius, who had been James’ best friend for all his life, who was Harry’s godfather and who Johnny had been named after, who had been the love of Remus’ life until something seismic and awful pulled them apart. Sirius, who had vanished to France for twelve years, only to return to Hogwarts to save Harry and Johnny’s lives. James owed Sirius everything for saving his sons. He had disappeared again as quickly as he returned, before James could convince him to stay, and that loss weighed heavy in James’ heart. 

“Dad, you know Sirius…” Harry scrunched up his face, looking just beyond his father into the middle distance. “Why did he go away for so long? I know it’s not my place to ask, it’s just he’s my godfather and I—“ 

James sighed. “It’s complicated, H. A lot more complicated than I wish it was. I’m not sure I understand it, if I’m honest with you.” 

“Weren’t he and Uncle Remus together?”

“That’s a conversation for another time,” James said firmly. He put his hand on the handle of Harry’s trolley and nodded towards the barrier. “Look, there’s an opening. You want to go alone, or together?” 

“I can go by myself, I think,” Harry said with a grin. “If Johnny can do it…” 

“Yeah yeah, get through the barrier then so you can torment your brother a bit more,” laughed James, swatting at Harry’s arm. 

James felt a little part of his heart constrict as he watched his eldest son walk towards the barrier. They were so similar, the two of them. Rarely a day went by when someone didn’t comment on how much Harry looked like him—the same unruly hair, the same sharp jawline and cheeky grin. The way they spoke, the mannerisms they used, the way their feet hit the pavement—all of it was James, and all of it was Harry, and all of it was one and the same.

Only Harry's eyes were different. The other children all had James’ eyes: delicate grey like the smudged hour between the night and the dawn. Harry had Lily’s eyes, bottle green and clear and piercing, like he could see right through you. He’d been like that ever since he was a child. Lily’s personality, too, if James was really honest—Harry had the kind of unnerving ability that Lily had to see through the bullshit to the heart of the issue. 

Which is why James hated the fact that he’d just lied to his son. What was he supposed to say to his fourteen-year-old? _Look, Sirius and Remus were together, and then had the mother of all break-ups over something I still don’t quite understand. He fucked off to France for a decade. We only saw him again last year because his deranged cousin escaped from Azkaban and came after the Boy-Who-Lived. Or, worse, the most precious thing to the Boy-Who-Lived: his sons._

James ran a hand across his face. His scars tingled as did so and he frowned. They’d not stopped tingling since the Quidditch World Cup, when he and the boys had been awoken by the threat of Death Eaters. Once they were all home safe and sound, he’d crumbled in Lily’s arms on the sofa, face pressed into the curve of her neck while he poured out all his fears in a whispered rush about how it could have been so different, how it reminded him of the war and the times when life seemed to hang from such a fragile thread. They’d spent their lives relying on miracles, and James wasn’t sure how many of those they had left…

Shaking himself, James focussed on the barrier. Lily and the boys would be waiting for him. He didn’t need to be thinking about the life they’d left behind so long ago, not when there was a life far more precious for him to be living in the present moment. Resolving to put it all to the back of his mind, James strode forwards to the barrier, preparing himself for that strange sensation as he passed through, and the inevitable attention on the other side. 

_“That’s James Potter!”_

_“That’s actually the Boy-Who-Lived… wow…”_

_“The scars look worse in real life, Merlin…”_

James grimaced. He was used to it by now, used to the stares and the gawping and the badly-hidden commentary hushed behind people’s hands. It was easier when Lily and the children were around; as guilty as he felt about it, people were interested in a celebrity’s private life, and that meant not everyone was staring at him. Then again, it wasn’t him they were staring at, was it? It was the scars—pale lines that spread like tributaries across his left cheek, fractal patterns glowing against his skin next to the milky white of his left eye. 

“Jem!” Lily called from further down the platform, catching James’ attention. 

The platform was busy as ever with parents and students milling around, double-checking bags and loading trunks onto the train, and with students happily reuniting with their friends. James felt a pang of jealousy in his chest that he wasn’t doing the same. He strode over to where his family stood, resting a hand on Johnny’s shoulder and squeezing it affectionately. 

“You’re learning to listen, Jono—I’m surprised you’ve not launched yourself onto the train already,” teased James. He was rewarded with a glower from Johnny. 

“Come on,” said Lily with a chuckle, plating an affectionate kiss on the top of her secondborn’s messy hair. “We’ll help you get your things on the train.” 

* * *

The four Potter boys stood at the window, waving frantically at their parents as the Hogwarts Express gave a great lurch and began to pull slowly out of the station. Harry was fairly certain that James was crying when they left, as he watched his mother laugh and throw an arm around his shoulders, planting an affectionate kiss to his cheek. Neither of the twins seemed as emotional as their father—Magnus had removed Wilton from his cage and had the owl perched on his finger, talking to it in a low voice, while Gideon hung out the window with Johnny and waved at the shrinking platform. 

“Watch Wilton with that open window, Gus. C’mon,” Harry jerked his head towards a compartment, “let’s go join Ron and Hermione.” 

As the boys trailed down the corridor, dragging their trunks behind them, a whisper like the wind took up among their fellow students. It didn’t take long for them to find the compartment where Ron, Hermione and Ginny sat, but the few minutes that they did have to search were wickedly uncomfortable. Arriving at the compartment, Harry ushered his brothers in quickly. 

“Those are the Potter boys,” someone whispered. “Their dad is the only person who’s ever survived a Killing Curse and—“

Whatever else was going to finish that sentence was cut off by the curt click of the compartment door sliding shut. Harry turned, watching his brothers slide onto the compartment seat next to a boy with fiery red hair and a plethora of freckles. 

“Alright, Harry?” Ron grinned up at him. 

Harry beamed back at his best friend. Opposite him sat Ginny, who smiled and gave Harry a friendly wave, and beside her Hermione looked up from where she’d had her head in a book. 

“Oh, hello, Harry!” she beamed, and quickly moved Crookshanks to the floor. “I think there’ll be just enough room for all of us in here. Although, if we’re squashed, I have been reading up on undetectable extension charms.” 

“Of course you have,” Ron scoffed as Harry began lifting the twins’ trunks onto the racks above the seats. “Have you ever thought about actually taking a break? It’s still the holidays!” 

“You know, you might find you spend less time up until midnight writing your essays if you prepared a little over the holidays, Ronald.” 

Harry laughed at Hermione’s waspishness as she and Ron bickered, glad to be back in the company of his friends. The three of them—for all Ron and Hermione’s arguing—were a steady formation, a trio that simply worked in that very natural, instinctive sort of way. Even having had the chance to spend time with the two of them at the Quidditch World Cup, Harry still felt like he had been apart from them for too long. 

“Harry,” Gideon asked thoughtfully, spinning his wand around in his hand, “do they really make you wrestle the Giant Squid if you don’t do your homework?” 

“What?” Harry let out a surprised laugh as he took his seat. “Of course they don’t, who told you that?”

“Well Johnny said—“ 

Harry rolled his eyes and looked at Johnny. His brother grinned wickedly. “What?!” Johnny asked. “Like you didn’t tell me that the Whomping Willow could walk on its roots and come and get me in the night!”

Ron and Harry burst out laughing while Hermione tutted beside them and rolled her eyes. “Honestly, I’m surprised either of you _knew_ about the Whomping Willow before last year.”

“Hermione,” Ron said incredulously, “we crashed a car into it in second year.” 

Magnus looked disappointed. “No Giant Squid wrestling at all?” 

“No, you total weirdo,” laughed Harry. Beside him, Ron had lowered the little table between the two rows of seats and began to deal Exploding Snap cards. Harry jerked his head towards them. “Come on, though, Gus—I think you’re the only person I know who might be capable of beating Ron and Ginny at Exploding Snap.” 

Magnus’ eyes lit up and he shuffled forward in his seat. Looking at the hand Ron had dealt him, he chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment or two. Then, he looked up with a gleam in his eye and said, ever-so-politely, “Ron, I’m so sorry to inform you that I’m going to destroy you.” 

* * *

“Weird, isn’t it?” 

“Eh?” James looked up from where he was pouring two cups of tea from the pot. Lily was standing in the doorway of the kitchen at Peverell Hall, her arms wrapped around her. The house had been James’ parents, the place where he had grown up; the marks on the walls were now from his sons, and the photos held more than one dark-haired boy with a cheeky smile.

Lily continued. “Fourteen years later, and we’ve suddenly got the house to ourselves. No boys running round here driving us mental.” 

James wiggled his eyebrows. “Could always make another one to keep us busy, you know.” 

Lily laughed, pushing herself off the doorframe and wandering across the kitchen to join him. “Absolutely not.” 

“But Lily, if we had two more, then we can fulfil my dream of being the first family Quidditch—“

“What about _absolutely not_ was unclear?” 

“Ugh, _fine._ ” James reached into his pocket to pull out his battered watch and surveyed the time. “They’ll be being sorted at the moment.” 

Lily reached for one of the steaming mugs. “They will.” 

“What do you think?” 

Lily raised her eyebrows at him over the rim of her mug. “What do I think of what?” 

James rolled his eyes. “Gideon and Magnus! Where are they going to be sorted?” 

“Gryffindor.” 

“You think? I think Magnus could be Ravenclaw, you know, and Gideon’s definitely got a streak of Hufflepuff in him.” 

“They’re your boys,” Lily said with a smile, “they’ll be Gryffindors.” 

She nodded her head at the battered sofa in the corner of the kitchen, gesturing for James to join her. It was a sagging, blue-and-white-striped thing that they had brought back to Peverell from Godric’s Hollow, one of the few pieces of furniture that had survived that fateful night. Lily had nursed every one of their boys on that sofa, James thought as the two of them settled themselves on the sagging cushions, had wiped tears from their eyes and set them upon her knee to listen to whatever troubled them. Looking at his wife, James felt a renewed sense of admiration for the woman who had been his steady harbour in the storms all these years. 

Their elderly cat, Frances, hopped onto the arm of the sofa beside James. James did not like cats. But, such was his nature that he felt an obligation to all of the earth’s creatures, and so he begrudgingly reached out a hand to scratch Frances behind her ears, just as she liked. 

“I almost wish I could see their faces when they find out about the Triwizard Tournament. I think Johnny might actually lose it. Thank God none of them are old enough to enter,” Lily said. 

James laughed. “Oh, God, can you imagine? Harry wouldn’t, I don’t think, but Johnny would be straight in there with his name.” 

“You underestimate Harry, you know,” replied Lily mildly. 

“What do you mean?”

“You underestimate how much he’s inherited your flair for the dramatic.” 

“ _Rude_.”

Lily grinned and winked at him, taking another sip of tea. That wink ignited something in the low part of James’ stomach and he let out a goodnatured, if frustrated, sigh. “I know you said no more babies…” 

“And I meant it,” replied Lily with a raise of her eyebrow. 

“Well,” James murmured, pulling her close so that she was flush against him, his hand on her waist. “Just in case you change your mind—“ 

“I wont—“ 

James grinned lazily. “Maybe we should go upstairs and practise. You know—“ he bent his head to press a soft his to Lily’s neck, delighting in the way she let out a gentle gasp at the sensation—“just in case.” 

“When has making a baby ever been an emergency?” 

“Never say never, Mrs Potter,” purred James against Lily’s skin, punctuating his words with soft, open-mouthed kisses against her skin. 

“Well then,” Lily replied, her hand running up the inside of James’ thigh ever-so-slowly. “I’d _hate_ for us to be unprepared.” 


End file.
